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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380223">Hell And Back Again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Langerhan/pseuds/Langerhan'>Langerhan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Comfort Reading, Drabble, Fluff, Freedom, M/M, Pining, Post-Apocalypse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:55:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>792</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Langerhan/pseuds/Langerhan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Ritz, Aziraphale and Crowley head back to the bookshop, slightly drunk and ready to be soft with each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Boundary Wizard, IK Shenanigans</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hell And Back Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdleLeaves/gifts">IdleLeaves</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well done <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdleLeaves">IdleLeaves</a>! I was told you like fluff and people getting head pats, so have tried to tick those boxes for you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When they got back to the shop, Aziraphale's hand was still burning from where Crowley had touched it. Hellfire, he'd said, laughing and sneering at the little Eric who'd brought it up; they'd thrown it at him, but they couldn't have known he'd carry it back down to Earth, or that he'd scorch Aziraphale's soul with the intensity of it. </p><p>The Ritz had been busy but a table had been miraculously free. They'd taken the Bentley back and Aziraphale hadn't stopped himself from gazing at Crowley for the entire ride. Hadn't seen the need to. </p><p>They tumbled into the shop laughing and joy-drunk. Every time Crowley grazed him, Aziraphale's heart jumped at the heat. </p><p>“You alright, angel?” Crowley asked, mouth turned up at the corner and an eyebrow raised. <i>Affection</i> radiated off him like sunshine. Gabriel said demons couldn't love. Gabriel, Aziraphale had realised in the past week, was a fucking liar. </p><p>“I'm,” Aziraphale swallowed, “fine, dear. Perfectly fine. Perhaps just a little too much wine.” </p><p>Crowley made a little noise of agreement and flung himself down on a sofa. His limbs sprawled into dimensions humans wouldn't discover for another century or so. Several consonants later, he managed to get out a soft, wavering: “Read to me?” </p><p>“Of course. I'll just – course. Should probably sober up a little first.” </p><p>During the 19th century, there was a viper at London Zoo. Aziraphale knew this because Crowley had dragged him to see it one weekend. The snake striking upwards was the image Aziraphale's mind tripped clumsily over when Crowley shot out his hand. </p><p>“Don't. Stay here.” </p><p>Aziraphale looked down at Crowley's pale fingers which gripped like lit matches between his own. </p><p>“Right here?” </p><p>“Nah. Sit down.” </p><p>Crowley's hips shuffled down the sofa and the rest of his body went along for the ride. He pulled Aziraphale's hand until he sat heavily on the soft cushion where Crowley's head had been. </p><p>“What would you like me to read?” </p><p>“Dunno. You choose.” </p><p>A Little Princess, he decided. It was a sweet story and easy enough to read aloud whilst drunk. The book was also conveniently close when he put out a hand to the nearest shelf. He managed to get less than a chapter in before a heavy weight flared like phosphorus in his lap. Aziraphale stilled. </p><p>“Crowley?” </p><p>“Mmm?” </p><p>He hovered just a couple of centimetres from the fire. His fingerprints would melt and it would be worth it. “Can I–?” </p><p>Crowley blinked a slow sunrise. “Yeah. Go on then.” </p><p>Aziraphale's hand shook only slightly when he tangled his fingers through the bright scarlet hair across his thighs. His heart shook only slightly at the soft, needy noises Crowley made. </p><p>“But then I dare say soldiers – even brave ones – don't really like going into battle.”</p><p>He felt Crowley tense at that. </p><p>“Captain Crewe laughed outright at this. He was young and full of fun, and he never tired of hearing Sara's queer speeches.” </p><p>As expected, Crowley smirked at the use of queer. His eyes were shut and his little noises at Aziraphale's hand in his hair started to quieten. Aziraphale read and Crowley's breath slowed until his chest was barely rising. </p><p>“You were ever so brave for me, Crowley,” Aziraphale dared to say quietly. “My brave little demon.” </p><p>He'd wanted to sober up earlier, but now he was too scared. If he was sober he might not be able to say what he needed to say. This could be a practice run; a faltering, drunken attempt at telling Crowley how brave he'd been and how much it mattered. One where if he fell flat on his face there would be nobody awake to see it. </p><p>“You risked so much.” Aziraphale risked moving his hand from stroking Crowley's hair to gently running his knuckles along Crowley's cheekbone. If the world was poetic, his fingers would have caught fire there and then. “It's all over now. We can rest. No more Gabriel, or Beelzebub. It's just us.” </p><p>The warmth of it rose in his chest until it broke out into an uncontrollable grin. If this was the same warmth the humans were met with in the desert outside of Eden, maybe Eve was right to eat the apple. They were free. Crowley had faced Heaven for him – for them – and now Gabriel would never again step foot in the shop and ask to buy pornography. Aziraphale's miracles would go unmonitored and he could help where he needed to. </p><p>Crowley muttered something and Aziraphale picked the book back up. He would read for the rest of the night if it would keep the home fire burning. He had the weight of Crowley's head on his thighs and freedom like a warm blanket on his shoulders. There was nothing more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There was, of course, quite a lot more, but I can't put any of it in a G-rated fic.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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